


Amapola

by chaya



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-19 16:59:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1477168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaya/pseuds/chaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Total fluff. Bucky's recovering nicely. Steve's oblivious. Sometimes it's best to set aside subtlety for action.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amapola

Steve's listening to oldies on the radio, idly paging through the newspaper when he hears the knock. He knew that Bucky was going to get his new arm installed today, but when Bucky's standing right there, outside his apartment smiling and wearing a _t-shirt_ , Steve has to stare for a moment before backing up to let him in.

"Tony did a really good job," he says, eyes still wide.

Bucky grins and flexes his new left arm, walking in. Steve shuts the door behind him just in time to see Mr. Kowalski peering from his door across the hall. "Now with 100% fewer tracking devices and remote-controlled sedative supplies hooked up to my bloodstream," Bucky quips. There's that bitter edge to his voice, but Steve can tell there's relief, too, to be rid of the old metal arm. The new one is flesh-colored, flesh- _looking_ , shaped carefully with 'muscles' that bunch as he moves, and Steve's mind flashes back to a documentary he saw about using lasers to scan three-dimensional objects to make a copy. Maybe Tony used something like that.

"Can I?"

Bucky wordlessly holds his hand out. Steve takes it, very gently, and turns it over. He tsks.

"Stark's a hack."

"What?"

Steve points. "Your mole's missing."

Bucky blinks. "My mole?"

"Right here." Steve presses the spot below Bucky's first knuckle on his index finger. "You'd chew your thumb, and it'd always be right there."

Bucky scowls. "That was a _freckle_."

"It was a small mole, and it's missing." Steve releases Bucky's hand and throws his own up in the air, feigning exasperation. "Tony's going to have to make you a new one."

"I guess I don't make a convincing Bucky at all, now, do I."

It's lighthearted, but Steve knows what's behind it. All the details he's lost. All the little things. "Oh, I don't know about that." Steve cocks his head to one side. "When you pout like that, you do remind me of the Bucky that would drag me to bars on weeknights to go dancing."

"You always had fun."

" _You_ did all the dancing."

Bucky smirks. "If you wanted a turn, you could've said so."

Smoothly, he steps forward and puts a gentle hand on Steve's waist, leading him to the center of the living room and taking Steve's hand in his. Steve scoffs to hide the funny feeling rising in his chest.

"As if I'd let myself be another of your conquests," he retorts, softening his voice a little to sound like the beautiful dames Bucky used to chase after. (And usually get.)

"Come on, doll, I'm not like that." Bucky smiles charmingly, feet gliding to the tune as easily as if he'd never stopped. Steve allows himself to follow, tossing his head back as if to get the hair out of his eyes.

"You're a scoundrel, Mr. Barnes, and all of Brooklyn knows it."

Helen O'Connell is singing, Steve thinks distantly. Bucky comes in a little closer, making a show of leering down at Steve's body as they glide along the floor.

"Excuse you?"

"It's just," Bucky's eyes flick up to meet Steve's, dark through his eyelashes. "You're a little bustier than when I first met you."

Steve can't contain the snort, and Bucky tsks him. "Not a very ladylike sound."

"Not a very gentlemanly observation," Steve counters, and lifts his chin up as if to be haughty. "Like I said: scoundrel."

Bucky captures his bottom lip between his teeth, playing up the flirt, but Steve has to look away before the act makes him blush, or worse. He tries to play it off like he's looking away in disinterest. "I swear I'm a stand-up guy," Bucky murmurs, something strange in his voice. "If you'd just give me a shot."

"I'd be a fool to give my heart away for a few empty promises."

"You're different than the other dames," Bucky insists, brushing a thumb along the inside of Steve's wrist as they move past the television, past the couch, to the window, circling. "I've never met a gal like you."

"And I'm sure you say that to every gal." Steve's trying to figure out where the joke is going from here, but the touch has actually raised his heart rate, and he feels for the poor girls who actually got lured in this way. It's ...

"I've said lots of things to lots of gals, I'll admit." Bucky's voice is a little softer, and suddenly Steve is so much more aware that they're alone in the room. "But I've only ever thought of you."

Steve realizes they've stopped moving, stopped mid-step by the window. Steve can't read Bucky like he used to, but right now he's really at a loss, Bucky's eyes just inches away and something there that Steve can't quite grasp. He takes in a breath and it hitches.

"Steve," Bucky whispers, and things click into place a fraction of a second before Steve feels soft lips pressing against his.


End file.
